


One True Love Trilogy

by neevebrody



Series: One True Love Trilogy [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone tells him time—time will heal him, time will take care of everything—but he doesn't believe that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fallacy of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Character death is implied/mentioned, but the death has occurred prior to the story.

Madison turned her mini-van onto Willow Grove Summit, a lovely street of trees just outside the city.  Pulling up into the driveway, she paused a moment to take her measure of the house.  An Arts and Crafts style home, it was built in the 1930s and boasted a real cobblestone foundation.  The porch buttresses were stone as well.  She thought of the many summer weekends she'd spent here with her Uncle Mer and Uncle John, and the times they'd "baby sat" when her Mom and Dad needed a little time to themselves.  She smiled at that, she hadn't been a baby, but she never refused a chance to be here.  Carrying on the tradition, she'd been bringing her own two boys, Ferris and Cameron, here since they were born.  God, how her Uncles loved having them, especially Uncle John.  She already knew Ferris was going to be a pilot someday—it was all he ever talked about. 

She adored this house.  Her Uncles had spent years restoring some of the original features and just five years before, her Uncle Mer had spent weeks researching the history of the house.  They were both so excited about restoring the wide eaves and repainting using the original colors.

The place was so beautiful this time of year, with its little side yard and the garden in back.  The trees were in bloom and the Rhododendrons sheltered and protected the house itself—a moat of purple and scarlet.

She thought of the many drive-by dinners and lunches she'd had in this house as an intern.  Even though she would only have a few hours to spare, her Uncles were always glad to see her.  Neither one would ever admit it, but she always suspected Uncle John had funded her med school tuition from some inheritance or trust fund, and that meant the world to her.  She shut off the van and made her way to the door.    

As soon as Uncle Mer opened it, she knew he'd been busy all day.  The house was warm and bright and the smell coming from the kitchen was heavenly.  She always thought her Uncle John would've had the knack for cooking, but it turned out he was the one with the green thumb.

Uncle Mer hugged her and ushered her inside and through to the kitchen.  So many hours she'd spent in this room with her Uncles, cooking, studying, and listening to them lovingly snipe at one another.  She watched her Uncle open a bottle of wine and made a mental note to ask one of her associates about a Rheumatology referral. With all the things those hands had done over the years, even now, he never complained about the pain.

He poured them each a glass and she busied herself setting the table.  She noticed there were plates and silverware for three, but she didn't say anything—just dutifully set the table like she'd done a hundred times before.

Uncle Mer pooh-pooh'ed her offers to help, so she took her wine and headed for Uncle John's den.  She thought this room was really the heart of the house.  She'd spent hours upon hours in this room—going through Uncle John's books, listening to music in front of the fireplace, or just talking with her Uncles.  Flipping through the CDs, she picked out something she thought Uncle Mer would like.

She'd grown up here listening to jazz and learning about its history.  Her husband had always been impressed with her knowledge and appreciation and Thomas could sit for hours and discuss recordings with Uncle Mer.  They even managed to get Uncle John interested sometimes, and that was no small feat.

"That's nice," he said from the doorway.  "Coltrane.  He'd like that.  C'mon, kiddo, let's eat."  She took her Uncle's hand and followed him into the dining room—watched him stare at the vacant chair before sitting down.

"So, how's everything at the office?" he asked, serving her plate.

"We are so busy.  I think we're going to eventually have to bring in another doctor; the practice is growing like crazy.  How about you?  Those meds I prescribed helping with your insomnia?"

"Oh, yeah.  I only take them when I need to, but—yeah, yeah—sleeping a little better."  She noticed the sudden brightness in his eyes.

Madison reached over for his hand and squeezed it—felt the tears well up in her own eyes, but she didn't dare let them fall. 

"It's just—you know, short stuff, some days are better than others.  Like today—today's been a bad day—until now."  His smile was weak as he patted her hand and it struck her just how tired he looked, the dark circles beneath those wonderful blue eyes a not-so-pleasing complement to the silver streaking what remained of his hair.

She smiled back, still clutching his hand.  Today was the anniversary of the day she had married her Uncles—she had been five years old at the time.  Even when they'd finally chosen to have a real ceremony of their own, much to her delight, her Uncles preferred to celebrate _her _date instead.

But this was the first anniversary without Uncle John and though she'd known it would be hard—she was surprised at just how hard.

They continued their meal, Uncle Mer asking about the boys, about Thomas.  He asked about her Mom and Dad and she seemed to satisfy him that everyone was fine, had everything they needed and were all happy.  Uncle Mer certainly didn't need to be concerned about them.

When he brought out the dessert, she knew she couldn't prolong asking about his health.  Uncle Mer didn't like talking about it, but not only was he her Uncle; he was her unofficial patient as well.

"How are you really, Uncle Mer?  You promised me you'd come in for a physical."

"I will, I will," he said, waving his hand in that way he had.  "I'm all right physically—it's just—like I said."

She nodded.  "Well, why don't you come and stay with us for a while.  Thomas leaves for a research trip in two weeks and the boys would love to spend time with—"

"I don't—I don't want to leave the house," he said, seeming not to hear her.  "But other times, it's so—just so empty here, I'd rather be anywhere else, you know?"

Madison swallowed around the dry lump in her throat.  "I know.  Maybe you should talk with someone about it.  Or—"

He was shaking his head which meant she was wasting her breath.  "Then it'll just take a little more time is all."  She patted his forearm.  "It hasn't even been a year—and you know, today is—today is really hard.  It's hard on every—"  She stopped before her voice could break—already hoping he hadn't seen the big tear that plopped onto the tablecloth.  She wiped her eyes quickly and took a deep breath.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo," he said as he brought her hand to his lips.

She just nodded.  There was no way in the world she would have let him spend this day alone.

She helped him clear the table, but he wouldn't let her clear away John's place – "not yet," he said quietly, and she just didn't have the heart to question him.  They washed the dishes and finished their wine listening to music and talking.  All too soon, it was time to go, but as Uncle Mer walked her to the door, she suddenly didn't want to leave.  

She turned back and gave her Uncle a big hug—the tears finally spilling onto her cheeks.  "I love you, Uncle Mer," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

"I love you, too, short stuff."  He hugged her tight.

She snorted.  That little term of endearment had always been a point of quiet contention between them, but she would have been devastated if he'd actually ever stopped using it.  "Uncle Mer," she sniffed.  "I'm a whole head taller than you now."

"Only because you wear those Amazon woman shoes—Jesus, how do you even stand up in those things?  Why don't you just get some stilts?  You know, you could fall off those things and—"

She pulled back and smiled at him.  "Honestly, you're worse than either Mom or Dad."

"Hmm," he hummed.  "Say hi to them for me, will you—next time you talk to them?"

"Tell 'em yourself.  Call 'em up why don't you?"

"Ah, your Mom's busy—"

"She's not too busy to talk to you.  And if you won't come and stay with us, why don't you go stay with them for a while?"

"I'll think about it, okay, kiddo?"

She wrapped her arm around his neck again and pulled him close, held him.  "You need a haircut, Uncle Mer," she said after a moment, fingering the back of his neck.  "It's curling up back here."

"I like it," he mumbled into her neck.  "It's the only part that still grows—I'm thinking of letting it—maybe go through a second childhood.  You should have seen my hair back in the '80s."

"Ha!  You've never left your first childhood," she teased.  "And I've seen the pictures.  Trust me, Uncle Mer—get a haircut."

He pulled back and looked at her, his smile gone.  "You're a good Mom, Mads.  Go home and be a good Mom.  Don't worry about me."

"You're sure you're okay.  I could stay—I just have to call—"

"No, no—you belong at home—with your family.  I'm fine—just a little tired."  He nodded and managed a small smile.

She threw her arms around him once more and kissed his cheek.

She waved once more from the car as she backed out of the driveway.

~~~~~

Rodney watches her leave, waves one last time.  Closing the door, he goes back into the dining room and stares at the table, at the place set for John—the place where for nearly twenty-four years they'd shared their meals—where John read the newspaper—where they'd talked and shared their lives with friends and family. 

He turns out the lights in the kitchen and crosses into the den.  John's room.  Just as John left it.  Jeannie tried to get him to pack everything up, said he was only prolonging the inevitable, but he can't, he won't.  He looks around—John's house—their house.  He remembers how excited John had been at finding it, how he had tried to talk John out of buying it—until he realized John wanted it for _them_. 

He leans against the doorframe.  Love permeates every room.  There isn't a space that doesn't have some memory attached to it—good and bad—Christmas trees in the front room, family dinners, the stairs where Madison fell and split her lip, arguments in the kitchen—and making up, the renovations to the attic room for Ferris and Cam, making love here in this room, with just the warm glow of the fire and soft music for accompaniment, as if they ever needed anything but each other.  God, how John had loved this house—loved Rodney.

The house is different now—has been these past months.  The rooms are cold, silent—the only laughter anymore is when Maddie visits, when she brings the boys over to stay for the weekend.  But sometimes, Rodney still hears it—that wonderfully atrocious snorffle that passed for a laugh—a laugh that warmed the house every bit as well as the old wood stove. 

He hears John's voice, too.  Often just a whisper, other times right out loud like he's in the next room.  Far from being frightening, some days it's the only reason Rodney gets out of bed.

In his own office, he calls up a few files on the computer—prints them, folds the pages neatly and slips them into envelopes.  He seals them and walks back to the dining room where he places them on the table beside John's place setting.  Switching off the lights and making sure the doors are locked tight, he heads for the stairs.

Upstairs, he performs his nightly routine.  The same one he's done—alone—for the past ten months.  No more fighting John for the bathroom or arguing about the temperature of the bedroom.  Hell, he can even sleep with the window open if he has a mind to.  But he doesn't.  His bed—their bed—is always cold now; the warmth that used to fill the entire house is gone.

Rodney washes his face and cleans his teeth.  There's no one around anymore to complain about the toothpaste tube, but Rodney squeezes it now the way John always asked him to.  He sets his toothbrush back in the holder and fingers the one beside it.  Silly, really, but it's something he just couldn't bear to get rid of.  His mouth curves a little.  When they'd first moved in, John made such a big deal about having their toothbrushes together in the same holder, in the same bathroom. 

Everything that was different then—after Atlantis, after John resigned his commission—made them act like kids, deliriously happy over simple things—holding hands in public—kissing in front of their families—having their toothbrushes together in the same holder...

He closes the medicine cabinet and stares at his reflection, tries to smile—a thing that seems as foreign and forgotten as the Wraith. 

He undresses and gets into bed, naked, the way he used to sleep with John.  Taking a few more sips of water, he slips beneath the covers.  The linens are cool against his skin.  He stares at the ceiling.  This room is the real test.  The memories—the love, the sex, the occasional hurtful words, the apologies, the clinging, the tears—make Rodney ache until he feels he'll burst open from it.  Turning on his side, he reaches out.  "I still love you," he tells the empty space.  "Miss you."

It's not that Rodney believes there's anything else—he doesn't believe John's waiting for him somewhere, somewhere he'll welcome Rodney with open arms.  Most likely, John's consciousness, his soul if you will, is just a bit of cosmic energy.  It's not that he thinks he can join John—he doesn't believe they'll continue life as it was here—loving—being happy.  He _might_ believe their consciousnesses will, on some level, be aware of the other, make some kind of connection—but that's as far as he's willing to step out on that limb.

No—it's just that he misses John so much, and he hasn't found a way to live without him—hasn't found a way to stop from hurting, from wanting, from needing.  Everyone tells him time—time will heal him, time will take care of everything—but he doesn't believe that.

No, goddamnit, time only makes things worse—more time to walk the floors of this empty house—more time to walk the streets of a life without John in it.  There will never be enough time, and he's tired—tired of waiting.

He draws John's pillow to him, clutching it as if it were John himself, burying his face in the mass of soft feathers that by some veiled miracle still harbors the faint scent of its owner.  He closes his eyes—tired—so very tired.  
 


	2. Years May Go By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddie was no stranger to sleeping in hospitals, although the waiting area would be a new experience. She'd stay because her mother and father would come straight there, and she needed to have a word with her mother before letting her see Uncle Mer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for angst, mentions of attempted suicide, family drama

Sitting in the antiseptic waiting area, she wondered what it was that had made her turn around and go back. She tried to think, but her head was full to bursting with thoughts, with what-ifs, with would they please come in and tell them something!

Madison stood and walked over to gaze blindly at the darkness on the other side of the window – something else seemed to be reflected in the glass: her fumbling for the right key, the sinking feeling when she saw that Uncle John's place was still set at the table and the sheer stab of panic at the stark white of the envelopes laced with Uncle Mer's handwriting: _Jeannie_ and _Madison_ – the blur that had her pushing the emergency number on her cell even before she'd reached the top of the stairs, the sheer silence of the house and opening that door.

An ambulance screamed out of the Emergency bay. The sound and light edged through the haze and brought her back to the present. She knew she was uselessly beating herself up for leaving her uncle to begin with. Still, how could she not have seen it? She should have never left him alone, not tonight. But that was just it, if it hadn't been tonight, would it have been some other? Some other night when she wouldn't have been close, when she couldn't have gotten there in time. No. She was not going to think that way. She closed her eyes and murmured a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn't ended like that.

Madison paced in front of the small row of seats. At least her status as a doctor counted for something: they were being allowed to wait in a private waiting area. She'd already been back to the ER and the ICU, but felt she really needed to be with her family at the moment. The doctors and nurses were taking good care of her Uncle; she'd made sure of that.

Cameron was asleep, his head on his dad's lap and Ferris was coloring quietly. He was being a real trooper. It was late and he was on the verge of falling asleep himself, but the worry in his small brown eyes wouldn't let him. Neither Uncle Mer nor Uncle John had ever shown a preference with her boys, but there had always been an unmistakable closeness between Uncle Mer and Ferris.

She looked at Thomas, who was smiling a pinched little smile she knew was just for her. A buck-up smile that, in his infinite optimism, meant to say _it's going to be all right_, and that said everything in the world about why she loved him so much. As she held his gaze, she thought about spending more than twenty-five years of her life with this wonderful man only to have him taken away from her suddenly and without warning. How would she feel? She realized then that she never really understood what Uncle Mer must have gone through – day after day in that house, but how could she have? Maybe that was how she'd missed the signals that should have shone like beacons through a fog.

A weak, tired, and tight smile was all she could return to her husband and she felt a stab of guilt, or maybe shame, because she really believed she and her family had compensated for the loss of Uncle John. She shook her head at the naiveté of that way of thinking.

The soft push of the door made her turn around.

Uncle Mer would spend the night in ICU, because she had requested it and because they wanted to monitor his blood pressure during the night to make sure it was stable before they moved him to a regular hospital room. Maddie nodded her thanks. She couldn't trust her words not to come out amidst uncontrolled sobs.

When the nurse returned to her station, Maddie walked over and bent down to kiss Thomas, then Ferris, combing her fingers through Cam's tousled curls.

"Why don't you and the boys go on home," she suggested.

"Mom," Ferris whined. "I wanna see Uncle Mer."

"Sweetie, Uncle Mer's going to be sleeping all night and we don't want to disturb him. We'll see him tomorrow, how's that?"

He looked up from his coloring with his sleep-laden eyes and simply said, "Okay."

Thomas made a valiant effort to argue with her, but lost. There really was little anyone could do. Maddie was no stranger to sleeping in hospitals, although the waiting area would be a new experience. She'd stay because her mother and father would come straight there, and she needed to have a word with her mother before letting her see Uncle Mer.

~~~~

The years hadn't changed her mother and father much. Sometimes, it felt to Madison as if she was the only one time had affected. Oh, there were the gray hairs and a few more laugh lines in both of their faces, but generally the years had been kind to them. Though, from where Madison sat, her mother was a wreck.

Tendrils of ashy blonde hair, laced with wild, go-their-own-way grays, fell gracefully from the twisted knot atop Jeannie's head to frame a face punctuated by red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The tissue, obsessively ironed between her fingers, was ragged, the dampness probably all that held it together and Madison felt her mother trembling as she took the busy hands in hers.

"He's going to be all right, Mother," she said, trying to sound professional and authoritative, as if Jeannie might not accept it any other way.

"But, why?" Jeannie asked. "Why would he do something like this? Why didn't you—why did you leave him? Didn't you—" Kaleb's hand on her shoulder stopped the flow of words Madison had anticipated. She looked at her father with the same understanding expression they'd shared so many times in the past.

"You see? This is exactly why I wanted to speak with you first," Madison said. Kaleb removed his hand and sat down beside his wife. "Uncle Mer does not need this from you."

Jeannie finally looked her daughter in the eye, then immediately bowed her head, leaning into Kaleb. "I know you mean well," Madison continued, "and you're just thinking about him, but—"

Jeannie whipped around to face her daughter. "I loved John just as much as anyone, young lady, so don't you start with me. But Mer staying in that house, alone, with all of John's things—even his clothes for God's sake. That's—that's just not healthy." Jeannie pressed the sodden tissue back to her eyes.

Maddie sighed and reached to the table beside her, fluffing out several tissues from the box and handing them to Jeannie. "And what about the things he can't see, Mother? The memories, the sound of Uncle John's voice, how's he supposed to erase that? It's not as easy as packing things in a box and hauling them off. He needs time."

"I never said I wanted him to erase anything. I just—can't bear to watch him do this to himself—and now, and now—this." She blew her nose with one of the fresh tissues.

"Well, _this_ isn't about you. And if you drag him home with you like I know you want to, what do you think that will do to him?" Maddie's voice rose slightly. "If you take him away from that house, this will happen again, and I'm telling you here and now, I will do everything in my power to see that it doesn't." She got up, mostly to get a good deep breath and some distance. Of all the disagreements they'd had in the past, this wasn't about them, wasn't about who cared more for Uncle Mer, it was about what was best for him and she was determined not to let anything distract them from that.

Kaleb put his arm around his wife. "Mads is right, Jeannie. Everyone has their own grieving process and we have to let Rodney navigate through his."

"By killing himself?" Jeannie asked incredulously.

Her mother's shrill voice stung like salt in a wound. "Mother!" Madison whirled around and stared at her. Angry at Jeannie because she'd dared to speak the truth; angry at herself because even though she knew it, she hadn't let the bluntness of it sink in.

Jeannie turned to Kaleb. "It doesn't surprise me that you're siding with her."

"I am not siding with her. There are no sides here, Jeannie. She's right. The one thing Rodney needs right now is to know that his family cares about him and that he's loved and needed."

"And if you can't do that, Mom," Maddie said. "I won't let you see him."

Jeannie's breath caught as she tried to say something, but she just curled into her husband's arms, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

~~~~

A shiver rippled through Jeannie when she finally stepped into the bright, sunny room. She hadn't seen her brother in a hospital bed since his appendix operation, or had it been the time he fell off the roof trying to boost their television reception. At any rate, he looked as small and scared now as he had then.

Madison had been in first, to prepare him, Jeannie thought, and that was probably why he wouldn't look at her as she walked up to the bed.

"Mer?" She reached out and took his hand, careful of the IV.

He didn't respond right away, but finally gave her hand a faint squeeze. "Jeannie. How's Kaleb? How's work? I hope you aren't missing an important conference for this."

The tone of his voice knotted her stomach even more. Her career choice had been a bone of contention between the two for years. She thought it was because he secretly wished he'd taken the job instead of recommending her, something he'd always vehemently denied. She'd forever lament the competitiveness between them, wondering why that seemed to overshadow the closeness they'd shared as children. "No," she answered. "I'm between consultations right now and Kaleb is doing well. He's here with me."

Rodney nodded.

"Can I ask why, Mer?" she asked after a moment.

He pulled his hand back and laid it on his chest. "You can ask anything you like. But don't you mean why did I do such a stupid thing? Why am I putting _you_ through this, putting Maddie through this? Why am I only thinking of myself?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"Jesus, Mer, just because I said you might feel better if you packed a few things up, donated them, got them out of the house so you wouldn't—"

Rodney closed his eyes, which only seemed to deepen the dark wells beneath them. "Christ, Jeannie, please don't start. I realize what I did was extreme, and yes, it probably was a stupid thing to do, but make no mistake," he finally turned to look at her. "I knew what I was doing and I went about it in a rational manner, at least as rationally as I could with the way I feel. I intended to—"

"But did you spare one thought for what it would have done to me if you'd succeeded? Did you think about what it would have done to Maddie, to the boys?"

"God, you sound just like her. No, Jeannie, I really didn't stop to think about your feelings, obviously, and it sort of defeats the purpose to ask your family's permission to commit suicide."

"Mer!" The words, out in the open, cut like a dull knife – not a quick, clean slice, but blunt, dragging and painful. Subtlety wasn't a trait either of them possessed.

He turned away from her again. "What did you mean?" she asked quietly. "I sound like who?"

"Whom," he corrected. "And I think you know."

Her face reddened and grew hot. She did know. He'd said the same thing many times over the years; she just couldn't believe he wanted to bring it up now. She'd caught herself at times, especially with Maddie, the same tone of voice, the same inflections, sometimes even the same words their mother used. Every time, the words had been out before she'd known it. Words that hurt, words with sharp edges, words of blithe indifference. And every time, she'd felt possessed, like something foreign had invaded her, the words spilling forth in an alien tongue. Still she denied it. "I do not sound like her," she said quietly, pulling up an uncomfortable looking chair.

"Sure you do. If I can sound pragmatic and 'holier than thou' like Dad, you can sound like Mom. It happens to everyone, Jeannie. Like it or not, we all become our parents at some point."

She stared at him; it felt strange to have her own words thrown back at her. She'd accused him more than once of being like their father using those very terms. "That still doesn't explain why, Mer."

"What difference does it make? What answer could I possibly give you so you'd understand?"

"You're not the only one who misses him," she said defensively, chin rising in that McKay fashion. "I loved John too."

"Don't talk about what you don't know, Jeannie. You have no idea how I feel."

"Well, I'm sorry, I don't like what it's doing to you. You think I like seeing you like this? It's not good for you. Whether you know it or not, whether you believe it or not… I don't want to lose you. I love you, Mer." She stood and smoothed the thinning hair back from his temple, trying to ignore the brightness in his eyes. "Can't you see that?"

Rodney was unresponsive, but as she lowered her hand, he grabbed it and held it to his chest. "I love you too, Jeannie," he said after a moment.

Pulling his hand to her cheek, she pressed her lips to it. "I know, Mer. I know."

~~~~

Madison looked up when her mother came through the heavy waiting room door. All the emotion of the past twenty-four hours welled up inside her as Jeannie came to her and threw her arms around her, clinging to her, wailing sobs filling the small room. Maddie held her mother. Jeannie seemed so tiny and vulnerable in her arms and Maddie couldn't hope to hold back her own tears any longer.

"Take care of him, Maddie," Jeannie sobbed. "You and the boys take care of him, please."

~~~~

Her uncle was standing at the window when she cracked the door open. She swallowed hard at the way the ridiculous hospital gown seemed to swallow him. "Are you supposed to be out of bed?" she asked, walking into the warm, sunlit room.

"What're they going to do?" he asked evenly. "I'm fine. Actually, my doctor should have released me by now." He looked pointedly at her.

She walked over to stand beside him. "Technically, Doctor Skarsgård is your treating physician, so it's really up to him."

Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "How's your Mom?"

"She'll be okay. You two got into it, didn't you? I told her I wouldn't let her—"

He turned to her. "It was my fault, kiddo. I wasn't very pleasant." He smirked. "So what else is new, right? I probably caused a lot of trouble for you though."

Madison sat down on the wide windowsill and looked up at her uncle. "We talked. Things are going to be better. She said you wouldn't tell her why. You mind me asking?"

Rodney stood there looking over her head out the window. "I'd rather not say," he said flatly.

"You're really sorry you didn't do it, aren't you?"

He snorted. "There's no way any of you can understand."

"I realize that Uncle Mer, but let me tell you something. Last night I stood there in that waiting room and took a good look at my husband and sons. And I thought about how I'd feel if after twenty-five years Thomas was suddenly taken away from me. I don't know if I could handle it either. I wouldn't want to live another day, but I'd have to because I'd still have Ferris and Cam. Think of what it would do to them to lose both of us?"

Rodney picked at the worn hospital gown, worrying a loose thread at his elbow.

"Mom's right you know. You didn't think about us at all. My God, Uncle Mer, how do you think I felt when I found you? How was I supposed to explain that to two boys who think you hung the moon and the stars? One who still asks when Uncle John's coming back?" Her hands trembled to match her voice as she clasped and unclasped them in her lap.

Rodney bowed his head. "I am sorry, Mads."

"Yeah, sorry I came back and saved your ass," she said matter-of-factly.

He did look at her then and from his expression, she knew she'd drawn blood and it scared her. She jumped up and reached for him.

His eyes welled with tears. "Jesus, Maddie. You sounded just like—" He drew a long shuddering breath. "God, I miss him so much. I did—I do, I just want to die—I don't know how to live without him." He went limp in her arms and she held him fast, as if somehow, through her sheer will and the strength of her embrace, she could protect him, shield him from any more hurt, ever.

"Oh, God, Uncle Mer. Don't you see? How did you expect us to learn to live without you?" Maddie's words stuttered out between sobs as she buried her face in his neck. "I miss Uncle John, too, but I don't want to lose you—I can't. I'll help you Uncle Mer, please, please let me help you."

Rodney drew back and took her face in his hands. "Maddie, oh God, I'm so sorry," he said, gently thumbing away her tears. Then he kissed her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

They stood that way for a long time.

Maddie's tiny voice finally broke the silence. "So, you promise you'll never think about doing this again?" She searched his face and held her breath.

The truth shone in those sad blue eyes. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I can't promise that. I'll do my best, but I can't promise."

She nodded. "I expected as much. Well then, we'll just have to make sure you have no reason to think that way any more."

"I love you, short stuff."

She snorted a laugh, spraying her uncle with tears that had found the corners of her mouth, their salty trails still stinging her cheeks.

~~~~

Willow Grove Summit. Maddie loves this street, always has, but somehow this trip up the scenic drive is particularly satisfying. She turns the car off and sits for a moment, looking at the house. In a few weeks, the yard will be a veritable artist's pallet, the vine maples dressed in vivid scarlet, a lush backdrop to the long, yellow fingers of the willows hovering over the fall blooms and the green of the perennials.

Uncle Mer had really taken to the gardening, probably because he knew Uncle John would be pissed if he let everything die. And this was no small feat for a man who could doom the heartiest of plants in two galaxies.

They're all outside as she gets out of the car; the boys fly remote control airplanes under Uncle Mer's careful and watchful eye as he does the watering. Cam starts his first year of school in less than a week. After spending their summers here the past three years, Rodney freely admits to Maddie that they have the run of the house, and he never stops chiding her about the boys' atrocious taste in music.

Their things are already packed and set out inside the front door. She stands in the hallway between the foyer and the front room, letting the old familiar warmth of the house enfold her, thankful to have it back again.  She listens to the renewed sounds of life – the gentle strains of Bill Evans floating from the den, Uncle Mer grousing about peanut butter and jelly smeared on the kitchen counter, the immediate and adamant denial of her youngest. She smiles and heads for the kitchen.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't me," Rodney says, noticing Maddie's presence. "And your brother doesn't eat jelly, so that leaves you, short stuff."

"Stop calling me that," Cam whines, sidling over to stand beside his mother. "I'm big. I'm going to school just like Ferris."

Rodney walks around the counter and kisses Maddie's cheek. "Well I've been to school. Your Mom's been to school, you think that makes you special?"

Cam looks at Rodney, his bottom lip poking out just a little. "You're too old to go to school."

"Believe it or not, kiddo, I was young just like you once… only I was taller," Rodney says, ruffling the dark shocks of Cam's hair.

"Mom!"

"Cameron, Uncle Mer is just teasing you," she says, thinking he'd be used to it by now.

They both watch him sling his bag over his shoulder and head for the door.

"Hey Cam," Rodney calls, waiting until he's almost all the way down the hall. When he turns around, Rodney smiles and holds out his arms. "Who needs a hug?" The teasing apparently forgotten, his bag dropped in the hall, Cam runs to Rodney to be swept up amid delighted squeals.

As they walk outside, the boys run ahead of them and jostle for position in the car. "Listen Mads, I've written down the subjects Ferris needs to be thinking about taking in the next few years. If his school doesn't offer them at his grade level, there are plenty of good private academies we can get him into. Just let me—"

Maddie takes the list and scans it quickly. "Uncle Mer, they don't offer the higher mathematics until the eighth grade, and the lowest grade level basic physics is offered is the tenth, and that's only if you meet the prerequisites and have the approval of the faculty."

"Yes, I know that, I just said—"

"You know all he's ever talked about is flying."

"Exactly. But why just fly planes when he could design them, build them?" Rodney points out. "Even better, why fly planes when he could fly intergalactic craft?" Maddie's heart warms at the animation in her Uncle's voice. "I'm telling you the kid's a natural with numbers, a genius. I've also given him a reading list, just a few books. He'll be ready for them in no time."

"Are these all academic books?" she asks, looking sideways at him.

"No. No, there's some others there too. You'll, um, probably have to go to the library for some of them. I don't think they offer the old science fiction classics as ebooks or whatever the hell passes for books these days. And those—those are just the ones John didn't have."

"You're giving him Uncle John's books?"

"Well, not all of them," he says through that pinched, _don't-be-so-annoying_ look.

Madison smiles. "You're too good to them, Uncle Mer."

Rodney shrugs. "You're too good to me, too, so what? Now remember, I'm off to see your Mom in a couple of days, but I'll call you when I get back. The boys can come over and stay the weekend."

She starts to say something, but his cell phone interrupts them. He fishes it out of his pocket and slips on his glasses at the same time, checking the number. "Your Mom," he says, rolling his eyes and flipping the phone open.

Madison leans over to kiss his cheek and hug him. "Love you," she mouths and he nods and waves to the boys.

Before she backs out of the driveway, she watches him for a moment – talking, free hand flailing in the air, his face animated. Probably something to do with work. They'd begun collaborating on a few things and the visit in a few days was the two of them attending a conference together as guest speakers.

Maddie thinks how different things are now, how different her uncle is from the man who wouldn't leave the house for months after Uncle John died, the man she left standing there waving a few years ago.

Time really has healed him, for the most part. Time has finally healed them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: girly_curl_3 and Dorie

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: girly_curl_3 and insight2


End file.
